Just Another Nerd
by Brittathebest
Summary: This is part 5 and follows up part 1, "Just Another Slayer", part 2, "Just Another Watcher", part 3, "Just Another Witch", and part 4, "Just Another Sidekick". This multi-part story takes place years after BTVS and ATS and several years after season 10 of the comics. This story references events in all of these series. All of this is the property of Joss Whedon and his associates.


* * *

This follows up part 1, "Just Another Slayer", part 2, "Just Another Watcher", part 3, "Just Another Witch", and part 4, "Just Another Sidekick".

This multi-part story takes place many years after BTVS and ATS and several years after season 10 of the comics. This story references events in all of these series.

All of this is the property of Joss Whedon and his associates.

* * *

"Me?" Andrew nearly dropped his tiki drink into his lap.

Spike wasn't sure how he had arrived at Andrew as the solution to all of his problems, but here he was.

"Remember when you stole Buffy's soul back in San Francisco? Then you put it into a robot?" _God, this is more ridiculous than it sounds in my head. If that's even possible_. "I need you to track down some souls."

Andrew's mouth was open. "So, you want my gadgets?"

Spike blinked at him. _I have lost my mind. Everyone has. Willow is lost in the mojo. Xander won't leave the dark cave of our collective unconscious without her. Giles has been playing with shadow puppets. And Andrew is our last hope? What a mess._

"Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Why not Angel? Doesn't he know about souls?"

Spike scoffed. "What's he going to do? Get Willow to curse him? Then turn evil? Take control of the vampire cave as the last vampire and the new king of the underground? Then she can follow his soul to where the other souls, the wiccas' and the slayers', are being held?" _Wait, this is starting to make sense._

"Spike, let me offer you some advice." Andrew paused, put a fingertip to his chin, adopted a serious look of contemplation, and continued. "It seems to me you have unfinished business with Angel. Perhaps this 'problem'," Andrew paused to offer some air quotes, "is an opportunity to work through your 'issues'."

Spike stared at Andrew then brushed off his advice. "Angel's not available. I think he has a hair appointment that day."

"What day?"

"Never mind. Can you help?"

Andrew signaled to the waitress at the seaside bar for the bill. Thailand was a pretty relaxed place, but he didn't want to hog the table. It was important that he keep a good relationship with the finer establishments. He had appearances to keep up, and entertaining clients was part of his expertise.

Andrew smiled indulgently. "Come with me. We'll see what we can do. It's the least I can do to help a fellow human being."

Spike stared bullet holes into the back of Andrew's head as he followed the young man in the linen suit out of the patio cocktail lounge out onto the street.

"What you have to understand, Spike, is that these girls need an expert hand to save them." Andrew paused in the crowded sidewalk to place a hand over his heart. "And I feel honored that you've asked me. I will do my best."

Spike let Andrew natter on all the way back to his bungalow about the code of honor among those who fight the forces of evil. At least that's what he remembered from Andrew's lecture. It was hard to give a shite after the first paragraph.

At last, they arrived. They stepped up from the sand into the small ocean-front hut. Andrew tossed aside his jacket and lay back into a hammock as Spike stood in the doorway.

He was listening to Andrew enumerate the demon forces at work in the southeastern Asia "bureau" of the "Worldwide Watcher's Council Conglomerate" when he reached his limit.

Spike leaned heavily against a supporting beam, sighed, and raised one hand to Andrew for silence.

Andrew stopped.

Spike explained slowly. "I'm going to sleep. You're going to sleep. Then we're…" Spike shuddered to find a word that might play to Andrew's sense of drama. " _disapparating_ to another dimension where we can hopefully find the missing wicca and slayers."

Andrew tented his fingers and nodded sagely.

"You're going to help me. Yes?" Spike hoped this worked.

Andrew solemnly promised and then closed his eyes. The boy was a bit drunk and promptly fell into a softly snoring sleep.

Spike found a bed in the corner of the room and closed his eyes. It took a while for him to fall asleep. _It feels like I've been on a plane every day for the last month. Jet lag is murder._

* * *

This time, he landed in the middle of the shadow cave, the cave Giles had built with his mighty brain, Plato's cave, the one that been a pit stop on the way to the vampire cave.

He barely had a moment to get his bearings before Andrew stumbled into the cave, catching his breath. "Thank the gods you're here. There's a terrible beast chasing me." His eyes widened at the sound of an animal huffing down the tunnel and getting closer.

Scooby and Cujo bounded into the room, friskily romping toward Andrew who cringed against the wall. Both heads of the dog had tongues hanging out, eager for Andrew to play.

"Andrew! He's not going to hurt you." Spike rolled his eyes.

The dogs turned to Spike and then bowed to him in play. Spike nodded to the beast. Cerberus settled down and sat respectfully beside the former vampire.

Andrew's eyes darted from the dogs to Spike and back. "Is that a…?"

"I don't have time to explain it." Spike was impatient to get on with it. "What I need to know, Andrew, is this: Do you know how to locate souls? We lost some wicca and slayers down here, and I was hoping we can skip past the vampire realm and get right to—"

"—the chewy center?" Andrew interjected. "I don't know. Spike, these things take time. You know, it took me months of prototypes to make a Buffysoul™ worthy of the suburban set. I mean, I had to program all kinds of furniture catalog know-how, flower arranging, a preference for AstroTurf-grade grass maintenance. Then, I had to find a time when Buffy was vulnerable…." And on and on, as Andrew described the process of stealing Buffy's soul without her knowledge, putting it into a robot for safekeeping, while he built her a "real" life for her real body and a synthetic soul in the suburbs with a 9-to-5 job, a dependable car, and a set of boring friends.

Once again, Spike was caught in some sort of loop of madness in which he had to listen to Andrew's "process". _This_ _really_ _is hell._ _The_ _prophets and the_ _literary greats talk about unrelenting torment, eternal flames licking the soles of your feet while Tim Curry and his minions feed from you. But_ _none_ _of those geniuses have ever met Andrew Wells._

Spike raised his hands and opened his mouth. "…I can't." He turned away to find a tunnel back to the surface.

"Ok, Spike." Andrew stopped him. "There's this thing I did when I was tracking Buffy. Well, it's like a locator spell, only once it gets to her, it takes her soul."

Spike was alarmed. "Andrew, you have to promise never to use that spell again."

Andrew stepped back. "Oh, no, Spike. I'm reformed. Besides, I think I can work it without taking anyone's soul."

Spike nodded slowly, "Ok. What now?"

Andrew closed his eyes. "Just a sec—"

Spike stared down Andrew. _This better work._

Andrew still had his eyes closed. "It was when all the Scoobies were together in San Francisco, fighting the good fight. And I wanted to help you guys. There was so much going on…"

The shadows on the wall they had been ignoring started to bleed onto the cave floor, then flow toward Andrew who still had his eyes closed.

Andrew opened his eyes a crack and saw the shadows approach. "Whoa, Spike, this is bad mama mojo."

Spike clenched his jaw. "Get back to the point, nitwit."

Andrew clamped his eyes shut again. As soon as the shadows reached Andrew's Chuck Taylors, Spike found himself back in San Francisco.

Andrew was waiting at a bus stop alone.

Spike jumped out of his skin as he heard Andrew's booming voice-over.

"It was a bad day. I had a job to do. I knew it was important. But no one knew the secret I held close to my heart."

Spike looked everywhere for the source of Andrew's voice.

The voice-over stopped its serious exposition. "Could you just? Spike? I'm doing a thing here."

Spike settled down and turned his attention to the Andrew in the scene as the narration resumed. Andrew sat in the rain, sighing heavily, his eyes turned to the skies.

"It was a world of magic. I was on the outskirts of the Scoobies. But, I knew I could protect the precious commodity that is Buffy, the slayer and lover of the Vampyres."

Spike was trying really hard not to roll his eyes.

The scene shifted to Andrew stepping off the bus in Oakland and walking in the rain.

"It was a time that made me pine for the friends who had been on my early journey toward magic."

Andrew in the scene walked down to a basement apartment, let himself in, and turned on a light over a workbench. Electronics manuals, magical texts, and comic books littered the dank little apartment. Andrew fired up a soldering iron and started to work on a familiar face of steel.

Behind Andrew, from the basement's dark corner, two ghostly figures approached, Jonathan and Warren. Immediately they heckled Andrew until he threw up his hands and stormed off.

"Wait." Spike heard a record scratch.

Andrew stood beside him watching the scene. "This is when I figured out how to find souls."

Spike nodded. "I get it. The First found you." Spike thought back on his own experiences with the First and how it had made him feel.

"This was different, though." Andrew beside him turned to Spike and explained. "I remember the First from Sunnydale. This was actually Jonathan and Warren."

The scene showed time passing, as the two ghosts berated Andrew with basic spirit theory, how to contact the dead, how to find a soul…"

All Spike heard was blah, blah, blah.

"Enough!" Spike was exasperated. "Can you find the girls or not?"

Andrew nodded. "Yeah, I can."

The two were back in Plato's Cave. The shadows were back on the walls.

"I'm going to have to work with this new operating system," Andrew explained as he trailed his fingers along the walls' shadows.

When he pulled his hand back, a shadow clung to his fingers. He stared as the shadow emerged into a three-dimensional figure.

"Great, it's just Tucker." Andrew huffed. A rather bland young man with dark hair stood before him. Andrew turned away.

Tucker scoffed. "What? You don't think I can get the job done?" He walked around Andrew to get his attention. "Without me, little brother, you wouldn't have the first clue about magic. It was me that let the prom hell hounds loose!"

"You're irrelevant. Besides, you don't fit into the narrative structure." Andrew flicked his hand, and the figure morphed into a new one.

Warren stood before him, frozen in carbonite.

Andrew glanced back at Spike. "This was just misplaced sexy feelings."

Spike stood against the wall, arms folded while he watched Andrew work through his "issues" with Warren.

Finally, Andrew turned away and explained to Spike. "I wasn't out then, but now I am a card-carrying gay man. I am out and proud, and Warren is just a figment of my repressed imagination."

Spike was indifferent. He blinked in one impatient gesture as if to encourage him to continue on.

Warren faded. Then Jonathan appeared, shrink-wrapped in action figure packaging.

Andrew walked around Jonathan, inspecting him. "There were problems with the first model. The First posed as Jonathan, but it had Jonathan's memories." Andrew, in thought, turned to Spike. "Did you find that to be a problematic plot line? Are we to believe that the oldest evil in the world was pulling Jonathan's strings, or was it an omniscient primeval force?"

Spike thought he was going to cry. "First Xander, now you. Enough with the meta! On with the real story, Andrew."

Andrew nodded and turned back to his ghost. "I think this will do. Jonathan, can you show us where your soul resides?"

Jonathan came alive in the plastic, and Spike, Cerberus, and Andrew watched the young man tear his way out of the packaging.

Andrew stared at the pieces of cardboard and plastic littering the cave floor when Jonathan emerged. "Such a shame."

Once he was out, he spotted Andrew. His face crumpled in anger. He turned away and folded his arms.

"Jonathan, can you do it or not?" Spike asked.

Jonathan glanced at Andrew then Spike. At last, he shrugged and replied tonelessly. "Sure. Why not?"

The room turned dark. Spike had the sensation of floating around a curved earth. He could hear Cerberus panting beside him in excitement. _Guess he doesn't get taken out for a walk much._ The silhouettes of Andrew and Jonathan with their arms outstretched like Superman were on either side. He sighed. _If this is what it takes._

Below him, he saw the cave of the vampires drift by. Spike was relieved they didn't have to revisit that scene. That had been a sticking point in their quest to find the missing wicca and slayer souls.

The sun rose over the curved earth, and the group shot through a cloud. Cerberus sneezed but resumed his excited panting. They emerged through the cloud into the bright sunlight. The group found themselves standing on the cloud before a set of pearly gates.

Spike sighed. _Again with the religious tropes._

Cerberus was up against the gate, dancing from side to side, and eager to get to the other side of the gate. There was no fence, and it seemed obviously easy for the beast to run around the gate. But, it seemed important that they be invited in.

To the side, a figure at a lectern was glancing at some paperwork.

 _Great, now we have to contend with the holy maître d' or the holy bouncer._ Spike was over this quest.

The figure glanced up at the group dismissively, and then did a double-take. "Spike! How good to see you!"

It was the Soul Demon.

 _Now I can tell Willow where this guy ended up._ Spike shifted. _Does no one just go poof anymore? There's always the clean-up after every battle, I guess._

"Hey, uh, you?" Spike had no idea what the demon's name was. Maybe that was part of his powers. "We're looking for some missing girls. There were a bunch of wicca and slayers who haven't died, but we think their souls ended up here inadvertently." Spike nodded beyond the gates.

A cherub flew by. Andrew's head followed it in awe. "Nice art direction!"

The Soul Demon walked out from behind the lectern toward Spike to greet his old friend. "Yeah, I saw them. They came through here. They're with you?"

Spike nodded.

"The thing is, uh, they said a vampire bit them? You wouldn't happen to know who that was, right?" The Soul Demon smirked at Spike.

"Uh, yeah, it was me. Listen, it was, uh… I don't know." Spike didn't know how he could explain what had happened.

The Soul Demon clapped his hands. "I'm just yanking your chain, buddy!"

Spike let out a sigh of relief between gritted teeth.

The Soul Demon wrapped his arm around Spike's shoulders and took him aside in a conspiratorial chat. "Look, I can let you in because you earned your soul. And I can let you and the ghost in, because you two have died, and I get the dog is a package deal with you. But I can't let the kid in." His glowing blue eyes shifted to Andrew. "I mean, you are technically alive, now, but he's never died."

The pair looked back at Andrew who was tracing a fingertip along the gates' railings, admiring the craftsmanship.

"Not a problem." Spike's answer was swift. "I'll get my business done here, and get out."

The Soul Demon agreed to the arrangement.

The gates were opened, and Spike instructed Andrew to cool his heels until he returned. Andrew pouted at not being allowed inside, but resigned himself to sitting cross-legged near the gate and the Soul Demon's lectern.

As Spike walked through, Jonathan at his side and Cerberus darting ahead, he could hear Andrew asking the Soul Demon if he had any board games.

 _Better hurry back before the demon decides he wants to start_ _taking_ _souls instead of returning them_ , Spike thought.

Once inside, Jonathan cocked his head to the side to look up at the taller man, "You don't really need me anymore, right? Cuz, the guys, they're having poker night, and I think I've figured out how to read the minds of ghosts."

Spike looked around. Miles of clouds surrounded him, and Cerberus was off in the distance, darting to and fro, hot on the hint of a scent. Suddenly, the beast's two sets of ears perked up, and he was off.

"Besides, your dog seems to know where to go." Jonathan watched Cerberus grow smaller in the distance as he picked up speed.

"It's not my dog—" Spike interjected and then relaxed. "Never mind. Fine."

Spike turned to follow the dot in the distance, resigned to a day of hiking. As the day grew hotter, Spike noticed the terrain change. The clouds had a distinctly rolling hill pattern. He began to notice distant mountains and streams alongside him, except it was all clouds. Fluffy mountains and nimbus rivers comprised the landscape. He turned a corner, and was stopped short by the dog, alert, still and waiting for his prey to emerge from the underbrush ahead.

It was a slight woman that came out from behind the cottony white trees. She paused.

The two stared at one another.

"Hello, Spike."

"Hello, Buffy."

A slow smile moved across her face.

Spike ducked his head and smirked back. He had missed that smile of hers.

"How's the afterlife treating you?"

"It's good. I finally get to shop now. No slayage. My fingernails have stopped growing."

"Well, it agrees with you. Not the fingernail part." He grinned. "That's a little gross."

She shrugged. "It's all good. Actually, everything is. Even standing in the line at the DMV here is fun. Yesterday, I went there to finally get my license, and the line broke out into a cha-cha. No one got their licenses. Everyone liked their photos." She scoffed. "Not that it matters. The cops –what are they going to do? Send us to jail for driving without a license? Please, jail is a spa here with a two-month waiting list…"

And on and on. But, funnily enough, Spike didn't mind when Buffy babbled.

The two spent the afternoon exploring the small community behind the fluffy trees - a simple town square with a coffee shop, quaint boutiques and a row of houses. Of course, it was all clouds, but Spike didn't seem to mind the corniness. Cerberus enjoyed the small town, especially when they stopped at a dog park. With a glance at Spike and a nod from him, the beast joined the other dogs for a frolic. Spike briefly squinted into the fray and then noticed the other dogs were also two-headed. What's more, to his surprise, the other dog owners seemed familiar. One by one, he scanned the group and recognized each one. They were vampires he had known in Sunnydale, just out for a stroll with their pooches.

He looked aside to Buffy who smiled. _Of course._

Even days that are perfect come to an end. As the beast rejoined them, Spike took Buffy's hand in his, and they turned toward her home. It was all so familiar to him. A fluffy version of Revello Drive laid out before them.

"Can we rest now, Buffy?"

She smiled to him and led him into her home.

There were a few times in his long life Spike would describe as pure bliss, but nothing compared to this.

* * *

Later that night, Buffy laid by his side, trailing one finger along his collarbone. She seemed puzzled.

"Yes, love? I'm guessing you have questions now that you know my natural hair color." His hand went up to his face and pushed the dark curls back.

"No, I already knew that." She looked up into his eyes. "I know why you're here, Spike."

"Oh?"

"And I don't have answers for you."

"So, the girls, they're not here." Spike contemplated what could possibly be beyond this place.

"No. They're here. I just don't know why they're here. I mean, I know that you drank from them, and then me."

He winced.

"And that I asked you to do that for me." Her hand held his chin as she reassured him.

He nodded slightly. He would never feel comfortable with what he had done to her.

"But, you're not a vampire. And those girls are not dead. But they're here."

Spike was lost in thought. "I'm not dead anymore, either, but here I am."

He continued. "And why is it that one of us is always dead?"

While Spike continued with a rant about the unfairness, Buffy thought back through the events. _Wait._ "Spike, do you remember when you wanted to kill me? You know, back in the early days in Sunnydale?"

"Yeah…"

"Did you really want to kill me?"

Spike turned to her, his brows furrowed. Buffy's eyebrows were up, as if to suggest he should know the answer.

"Um." He was still thinking through the question. He had been a vampire then, and he had felt driven to find blood. Occasionally, he would be distracted from his purpose. Even when he had a master plan, he would become impatient and charge in. Then, to pay the price for his impetuousness, he would have to make a deal with some demon. Often, he didn't get what he set out to do. Yet, somehow, he always survived. That is, until he allied himself with Buffy.

Buffy was up, wrapping a robe around herself.

Spike was petulant. "Oy! I think we have more business here." He patted the mattress beside him and wagged his eyebrows.

"C'mon," She held out a hand and helped him up and over to his pile of clothes. "Your sexy vampire tricks only work when you're a vampire."

The two walked out of her bedroom and tiptoed past Cujo and Scooby who snored heavily beside the door.

They stepped out into the street. It seemed fitting the two would go for a walk at night. The stars were heavy in the sky, and the moon loomed over them as they walked through familiar paths in the Sunnydale night.

They found themselves in an alley behind the Bronze. Suddenly, they were in place. Spike looked down to find he was wearing his old duster, and his hair was blond again. Buffy's robe had been replaced with a simple outfit in a flash. A vampire rushed her, and Spike was shunted backward to the shadows where he had watched her dust his ally.

At the moment when he was supposed to applaud and announce that he would see her Saturday for her killing, his words caught in his throat. He stepped out of the shadows.

Buffy whirled around, but instead of raising her stake, she asked, "Did you really want to kill me?"

He smiled and realized the truth. "No, I wanted Drusilla to get well again, but once I saw you dance inside…" He nodded at the nightclub doors.

She smirked. "You had the hots for me."

"You were so alive." He looked into her eyes. "You had so much joy dancing with your mates. I'd never met a slayer who had so much power. I mean, you had the cajones to dance openly with your friends while Rome burned down around you. "

She smiled. "As long as I had my friends, I could do anything."

"When I saw you dancing, there was a part of me that didn't want to kill you anymore. I just wanted to taste that power. If that meant delaying it, then so be it."

"It, meaning my death."

"Yeah." He looked down.

The scene shifted.

Spike was chained to a bathtub while Buffy sat beside him. She offered a novelty mug of pig's blood to him.

Spike spit out the straw, pulled his wrists and snapped the chains. "I could have done that at any time, you know. I'm a hundred-year-old vampire."

"You were a hundred-year-old vampire." She corrected him. She smiled and offered her neck like she had done then.

He smirked. "I was enjoying being your pet vampire."

"I knew you couldn't hurt me." She shrugged.

"It gave us a chance to play our parts." He added.

"And pretend to be enemies." She smiled again.

The scene darkened.

"Is it weird that your idea of peace is returning to the Hellmouth?"

Buffy shrugged. "I think I like being the slayer."

"Finally!" Spike rolled his eyes. "How many times did I tell that death is your art, that you should enjoy the powers this life gave you? You were one in a million, and not only because you were the slayer."

They were standing in a graveyard. He was still in his duster. This was the site of many of their conversations.

"I get that now, Spike." She sat down on a tombstone. "I think I didn't want to admit what I was. I wanted to be a normal girl. Every girl does. After defeating Adam in the Initiative tunnels, I realized that I needed my friends. We did this mystical mind-meldy thing. Giles gave me the brains, Willow gave the spirit, and Xander was the heart. Without them, I was just a shell. I was just the hand that had the physical strength to beat back the evil. I needed them to anchor me in this world."

"You were more than the muscle, Buffy…"

"I know. But, if I didn't have them to remind me, it was easy to get lost in the slayage. I didn't want to become Faith."

"I get that." Spike thought through their time together and the obstacles in their relationship, or whatever you wanted to call it.

"But, you, Spike, you were something else."

He stood and preened. "I know it, love."

"Spike, I mean it." She laughed at his bravado, and then paused in thought. "No, you were something different than my friends."

They were suddenly back at Revello Drive.

Buffy had a black wool cap on her head.

Spike found himself leaning against a police cruiser, looking for a pack of smokes in an unconscious cop's jacket. Smirking when he found his Zippo, he lit a cigarette and then turned back to Buffy.

"God, I've been dying for a smoke." Then he remembered where he was. His eyes darted around furtively. "Do you think they'll mind here?"

Buffy laughed. "I've never seen you look that guilty, even after you got your soul."

The two laughed as he tossed his smoke away into a fluffy white shrub.

"Guess I don't have to worry about forest fires here."

Joyce pulled up beside them in her SUV and asked Buffy where she had been.

"Oh, shit!" Buffy giggled at being caught with the vampire.

The two smirked their way through the scene, reading their lines like embarrassed teenagers in a play. The scene ended when Buffy explained to her mother the truth about her slayerhood.

Joyce froze in place.

Buffy took one step toward her mother and placed one hand on her's. "No matter how many times I see my mom here, I never get tired of it. The real Joyce Summers lives down the street, in an identical house, and we have coffee every day."

Spike stood behind her and watched Buffy look longingly into her mother's eyes.

Buffy turned back to Spike, smiled and explained. "I think we're here because this was an important turning point. You were there when she found out what I was."

"I was surprised she didn't know." He looked at Joyce with a half-smile. He had liked the lady.

"I wasn't ready to tell her until this night." Buffy looked at Spike. "I wasn't fully ready to be the slayer until then. That meant going it alone. No friends. Facing Angel alone was the hardest thing I ever did."

Spike nodded. "We made a pretty good team."

"That's because you were my slayer power, Spike." She stared deeply into his blue eyes. "When I was alone, you were there. When I came out to my mother, you were there. When I faced Angel, and I felt my friends had abandoned me, you were there. When I couldn't defeat Glory, you protected my mother and sister. When I was depressed, you were there."

The two were now sitting on her back step. She was about to pick up the scene and ask him about finances, when he interjected.

"-You told me this night that when we're alone, you're miserable."

"Yeah. I wasn't ready for the responsibilities of being an adult. And, my slayer power was a responsibility. It was a thing that grew as I became an adult. And you were my slayer power. I guess when people start to grow up, you test your limits."

"You know, when girls find their independence, most of them drink too much and shoplift."

She smirked. "I did a bit of that, too."

"Instead, you made sweet love to vampires." He taunted her. "The things you're supposed to kill."

"Yeah, but it's more than that. After we opened the door to the first slayer down in those Initiative caves, it's no coincidence you became a bigger part of my life. I admit it. You didn't fit in with the Scoobies. Like my slayer power, you were something they tried to understand but always felt a little uneasy with."

The scene shifted.

They watched Spike drinking cocoa with Joyce, explaining his love woes.

"Once my mom understood what I was, she tried to nurture it."

In front of them, Joyce was mutely providing some motherly advice to the vampire.

Spike watched the scene, rapt with the idea that Buffy had struggled to understand her own slayer power.

The scene changed again. They were in another alley.

Buffy was sitting on his chest with her fist clenched. Spike could feel his face swell up with the bruises she had given him.

"I wasn't beating you up, Spike. It was me I couldn't accept."

She unclenched her fist and instead trailed a gentle hand along his bruised face.

"It wasn't long after this that I decided it was time to grow up. I let Dawn become a Scooby-"

"—at the same time I was getting my soul."

"I'm sorry for all of that, Spike. I should have realized what you were, what I was, and appreciated all of it."

Spike took her hand in his. "We were both better for it."

"It took me so long to get it together. We were all so scattered while the First was kicking our asses. It wasn't until I decided to give my power away that I finally felt like I could handle it. Like it took that long to realize that I had been an adult all along."

The scene shifted again. Spike was kneeling before Buffy sitting on a bed. It was the night that Sunnydale had lost its power. And so had Buffy. Her friends had kicked her out. And once again, she was alone. With Spike.

"You're the one, Buffy."

She smiled through her tears. "I needed the push you gave me to find the scythe and spread the slayer love around. I needed to be alone to realize that I could be many. Once I gave my power away-"

"—I died."

The two sat alone, side-by-side on the bed together, smiling through their tears.

* * *

Buffy and Spike spent their days walking Cerberus, leaving flaming bags of Cerberus poo on people's lawns and then sneaking away in delight.

"We're such dorks!" She laughed. Spike smirked and agreed.

Occasionally, they felt the need to head out at night like hoodlums and spray graffiti on the walls of the quaint village boutiques. Buffy's tag was the word 'Slayer' written in font reminiscent of the '80s. She usually topped it off with an epic display of air guitar. Spike objected on the grounds that hair metal was not technically music. Spike's tag was a large 'A' with a circle around it - anarchy forever.

Since there was nothing to slay, a detail that kept them from calling this place heaven, the pair would spend their evenings drinking scotch straight from the bottle in the cemetery. One night, the town was having a dance to raise funds for graffiti clean-up.

Spike and Buffy were laughing at their idiocy when Buffy shushed him with a clumsy finger to his lips.

Behind her hand, he garbled out, "Jeez, slayer, even here you're a lightweight."

Her head was turned, listening to the music.

He jumped off the tombstone and bowed to her, with one hand out. She took it, and they danced slowly to the Billy Bragg song.

"I'd like to rest my heavy head tonight  
On a bed of California stars  
I'd like to lay my weary bones tonight  
On a bed of California stars

I'd love to feel your hand touching mine  
And tell me why I must keep working on  
Yes, I'd give my life to lay my head tonight  
On a bed of California stars"

* * *

Andrew was so bored.

"Surely, you must have the classics. Battleship? Sorry? Mousetrap? I bet you'd like Operation. They don't have a piece for the soul, though."

The Soul Demon had been shuffling his lectern papers for days, trying to ignore the boy.

Andrew approached the gate. "Jonathan?"

There was no sign of the ghost. Just clouds and clouds. This didn't stop Andrew from calling for his friend.

After several hours of this, Jonathan appeared with a pop. He seemed startled and surprised to be there. His eyes glanced at the Soul Demon who was bent over, pretending to be cleaning the inside of his lectern.

Jonathan was impatient. "What do you want? I've got a new batch of frat boys on the ropes. They just arrived. They thought swimming with sharks was a good idea. Anyways, they just went all-in with shitty cards. I'm about to win the whole pot."

Andrew understood, but he had a request. "I know you don't owe me anything. But, I need your help." He sighed. "I have to bring the girls home."

Jonathan's face dropped as he replied quietly. "Yeah. Okay."

Andrew explained that Jonathan needed to find Spike and deliver a message.

It was a warm day. Buffy and Spike were spending the afternoon in the hammock behind Buffy's house. Spike was reciting poetry to Buffy. Cerberus dozed beneath the hammock.

Buffy had just fallen asleep when Jonathan approached.

Spike sat up. He looked familiar. He turned his head to the side, trying to remember something. Something about a thing he was supposed to find.

"Spike." Jonathan stood before him. "I have a message for you."

"Who are you?"

Jonathan explained. "This place has this effect on people. After a while, you'll get used to it. Look, I have a message for you, but uh…" Jonathan glanced around the yard. "It's not going to work in direct sunlight."

Spike was dubious but he gently crawled out of the hammock, not wanting to disturb Buffy and Cerebrus' nap. He followed Jonathan into the kitchen. He slowly remembered why he was there, shaking it off.

Jonathan held his hand out. A flicker of light danced across his palm. A hologram of Andrew appeared. "Spike, you're our only hope." The message repeated itself. Again and again.

 _Balls_ , Spike thought. _These nerds are getting on my last nerve._

"Yeah, I know." Spike snarled. "What do you want me to do about it?"

The hologram had been looping through Andrew's brief message. It suddenly stopped. The tiny Andrew turned to Spike and pleaded with him. "Spike, we have to get the girls. I mean, maybe you don't care anymore. But, I do."

Andrew sat down on Jonathan's palm and sighed. "Back in Sunnydale, the First tried to convince me to kill the girls. Now I want to lead the wicca and slayers home."

From the doorway, Buffy chimed in. "What's the big? They go to the same dojo I go to. I didn't even know Sunnydale had one. I should have gotten a job there instead of flipping burgers."

Spike rolled his eyes. _Does everyone have to be meta?_

Then he stopped short. "Wait. It's that easy to find them?"

Buffy shrugged. "What? I told you they were here." She paused before continuing. "Besides, I think I now know why they're here. Just like with me back in Sunnydale, you never really wanted to kill them, right? So, they're not really dead. And now they can go home."

Spike turned to Jonathan and the wee Andrew. "You have your answer, mates."

"And you?" Andrew's tiny question was directed to Spike.

From beside Buffy, Cujo growled.

Jonathan took that as his cue to leave.

Watching him cross the yard, Spike called out to them. "And don't forget the wicca back at the vampire cave. I promised them I'd get them out. I just didn't know how."

Jonathan turned. On his palm, hologram Andrew replied. "You didn't have to, Spike. That's why you have friends."

Tiny Andrew watched Spike nod from the porch, his dog and girl at his side. He turned to watch them grow smaller and smaller in the distance as Jonathan carried him away.

Hours later, Andrew saw the group of women approach the gate, accompanied by the ghostly Jonathan. As the Soul Demon let them out, Andrew turned to him.

"How come they were allowed inside but I wasn't?"

The Soul Demon sighed impatiently. "They thought they were dead. But they weren't really."

Andrew scoffed. "Way to retcon the crucial details."

And then he turned to watch Jonathan float away, back to his poker game.

* * *

Xander was drifting in and out of consciousness. The cave was very dark, but he could see Willow's form laying on the floor a few feet away. The fire was very low. He could see that there were no more vampires in the cave. He glanced back at Willow, worried. Dusting the last of the vampires had seemed to have taken everything out of her. Watching her had had a similar effect on him.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Quietly, he summoned a bit of strength to reach out to her with his mind. _Willow?_

Willow turned over, startled. "What?"

He smiled. She was alive. "Willow," he whispered, his throat parched. "I thought of something else. You somehow got into our brains, our memories. All you wanted to do was understand us and help us understand ourselves."

He paused and swallowed. Willow had sunk back into the cave floor, exhausted. But, he could tell she was listening. That was a good sign. He was going to keep talking as long as she was listening.

"Such a thing you did, Willow. How could that be anything but love? You used your powers for love."

He saw her blink. "Really?" Her reply was slow and tentative.

"Yeah, Willow, it's time to come back to us."

He closed his eyes and when he reopened them, there were many figures standing over them. It was Andrew, the missing slayers and wicca, and the cave's wicca studying them.

He pushed himself up, crawled over to her, and nudged her shoulder until she stirred.

He looked into her eyes. "We have some girls here that need to go home. Can you help us?"

She glanced around, and then closed her eyes again. Within her cupped hand, a white light of spark fizzled.

Xander placed his hand over hers, gathering the small flame. He handed it to Andrew, who passed it around the gathered women.

Xander got his shoulder under Willow's and helped her to her feet. He was exhausted, but he let her lean heavily against him. The two friends followed the group down the tunnels. Occasionally, he would stumble, and she would hold him up. They grinned at each other.

As they approached Giles' cave, Willow had a question for Xander.

"What about the magics? You know?" She pointed upward.

"You mean topside?" Xander got the gist. "I have it all figured out. Dawn and I will visit more often. We'll help you out."

Willow smiled and then suddenly looked concerned.

"Something wrong?"

"What about—"

"Miss Kitty Fantistico Junior?"

She was surprised. "You know about her?"

"Willow, you've talked about her endlessly while you were out of it. Miss Kitty Fantistico this, Miss Kitty Fantistico that. You would think you were obsessed with pu—"

"Xander!" Willow's eyes turned black briefly and then softened. She grinned while she continued. "She's awesome. She's black and white just like the first Miss Kitty Fantistico. She stalks around all predator-like, and then she wanted to cuddle."

"Sounds like you're in the market for a spirit animal." Xander rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, it couldn't hurt to have a little help." Willow admitted. She glanced over her shoulder. The two capes were still there, albeit ragged and limp.

"She just has the one head, right?"

Willow nodded then frowned. "Crossbows are not allowed in the house, though."

"I think Dawn established back in Sunnydale that she doesn't leave weapons lying around all willy-nilly anymore." He thought back to the girl waiting for him. "She's actually a pretty good demon hunter now. I mean she's not a _rogue_ demon hunter."

The two laughed.

"Do you know I always had a thing for Wesley?"

"Ok, Will, now you're really scaring me."

They laughed again.

"By the way, you haven't asked how I am," Xander added.

Willow was chagrined. "Kinda got lost there for a while."

"Yeah, but meanwhile Dawn and I have been dealing with our own demon apocalypse. We've been sending up bat signals left and right, but nothing. You know when you took out the vampires, it left a power vacuum. Geopolitics is some tricky stuff. Maybe we can work on it together?"

Willow nodded. Willow was happy to help her old friend.

* * *

This will be concluded in part 6.


End file.
